


you could still be what you want to

by wlwpeggycarter



Series: inspired by [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: (but not like relationship angst), Artist Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Medication, Post CACW Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Therapy, description of torture, please read authors note!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wlwpeggycarter/pseuds/wlwpeggycarter
Summary: “I’ll let you know a little secret about me, and I only tell this to people I really care about, so you should feel super special. I used to be Captain America.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this fic is based of the song 'medicine' by daughter, and if you haven't heard it before I totally recommend it. the sections of the fic are inspired by different verses of the song, in case there was any confusion about the set up!! (i do plan on doing more fics in this style, I already have a few selected.)
> 
>    
> There is a graphic-ish description of the t*rture bucky experienced while under hydra control, and it starts at the verse "it's just medicine / it's just medicine." that is the only place that there is a description of torture, and if you have any questions before please don't hesitate to ask me. 
> 
> That's pretty much the only warning I can think of, except the ones in the tags: therapy sessions, medications, and there are quite a few mentions of blood in the first section of the fic. 
> 
> thats pretty much it, except the usual thanks for reading and comments and kudos are super appreciated!! tumblr is @wlwpeggycarter, and so many thanks to @capsgt on tumblr for beta'ing this fic <3333

_ Pick it up, pick it all up. _

_ And start again. _

_ You've got a second chance, _

_ you could go home. _

_ Escape it all. _

_ It's just irrelevant. _

 

Bucky picks up the fallen shield, covered in grime and blood that blends into the red stripes, and stares at it. It looks different, somehow. It does not seem like the same shield that went into war seventy years ago, it looks changed and warped and  _ destroyed _ . Bucky understands. 

 

He does not make eye contact with Steve, not yet. Bucky still does not understand everything, so he needs to try and piece it together inside his head first. 

 

Bucky- he knows Steve, he  _ knew _ Steve. He knew that when he sat in that chair and they put the ‘medicine’ into his head, he knew that when Steve fell from the helicarrier and Bucky watched his body fall and fall, he knew that when he stood inside the Smithsonian and watched the movies of Steve and himself back in the war and read what was printed on the walls. 

 

Steve must sense the delicacy of the situation because he does not say anything either. Bucky hears his breathing though, it is labored and incredibly uneven, so Bucky is not worried. He knows Steve does not have asthma anymore, the serum fixed all of Steve’s illnesses. Bucky read about it in the museum. (He also knows it all because he was  _ there _ , he and Steve were together seventy years ago, and he was not this killing machine, this monster that was soaked in blood, an animal who did nothing but hurt and kill and destroy-)

 

“ _ Bucky _ , please calm down. Jesus, please, calm down. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Steve yells, and that snaps Bucky out of it. They used to yell whenever the Soldier was bad. He must have been hyperventilating or speaking aloud. Bucky doesn’t stand straight with his arms at his side, but it comes close. 

 

Bucky finally looks at Steve. Steve looks worse than when Bucky pulled him from the water, if that is possible. His face is covered in blood (again), and he has a cut that goes from the corner of his eye to his chin. He has bags under his eyes that could put Bucky’s to shame if they weren’t covered in blood, and he has  _ lines _ . There are deep lines shaping his mouth, but they don’t look like the ones that come from smiling. They look like lines that come from frowning and scowling, and it does not look right on Steve’s face. 

 

“Steve.” Bucky whispers, and Steve looks shocked that Bucky even spoke. “I- Steve.”

 

“Bucky. Please come back, I can fix this, I promise. You’ll be safe, no one will hurt you. We could start over, move to the country and- and never have to worry about anyone coming to take us away again.” They used to talk about that, Bucky remembers. Moving to the country and having a better life. They never got around to it. “You can start again, have a  _ good _ fucking life, like you deserve. All of this, it’ll be behind you.” 

 

Steve looks broken. He is very close to crying, his lower lip is shaking and he looks like he is having a hard time swallowing. Bucky did that, Bucky destroyed Steve. Bucky made Steve cry, he made Steve beg for Bucky to run away. Bucky has hurt Steve so much, physically and emotionally. He can’t possibly be expected to just walk over to Steve and have everything suddenly fixed. Bucky doesn’t deserve that, and Steve doesn’t deserve to have Bucky bringing him down for the rest of his life. (Which could be forever, or close to, if Bucky understands the science of the serum correctly.) 

 

“No, I can’t. I’m- I don’t deserve it.” Bucky is covered in blood, he has enough blood dripping from his hands to fill an ocean for many lifetimes. The blood runs deep inside him, but it is not only his. It is the blood of innocent people, people who screamed and begged for him to stop. He never did, those weren’t his orders. 

 

“Bucky, God, if anyone deserves an out it’s you. What happened to you was the worst thing I can imagine, and I just- I know why you want to run. I know why you don’t want me to be around you, and I know why you think you don’t deserve a good life. I just want you to know you’re wrong, you deserve whatever you fucking want at this point.” Steve is openly crying now, but he doesn’t wipe away the tears. The blood on his face runs, and the dried blood turns into a softer shade of red. 

 

Steve continues, and he doesn’t break eye contact with Bucky. “If you don’t want to come, I’m not going to make you. I won’t force you to do a single goddamn thing for the rest of your life. But I really want you to come home with me.” 

 

Steve takes in a deep breath, and doesn’t let it out. Bucky stares, and wonders what Steve is doing. It doesn’t seem normal for a person to hold their breath when it isn’t necessary. They are not under water or surrounded by dangerous gasses. 

 

Bucky realizes that Steve is not voluntarily holding his breath, he isn’t holding his breath at all. He is just breathing so shallowly that it just  _ looks _ like he is holding his breath from the distance Bucky is at. Bucky knows Steve isn’t having an asthma attack, it isn’t possible anymore, so it must be a panic attack. Bucky read a lot about those. 

 

Bucky closes the distance between Steve and himself, and he takes into account how Steve seems to relax when Bucky is closer.  _ Good to know,  _ Bucky thinks. He grips Steve’s shoulders and forces him into a sitting position, and moves one of his hands onto Steve’s back. He hopes this is still helping Steve. 

 

“Steve, it’s okay. Everything is going to be fine. You don’t have to worry anymore, I’ll come home.” Bucky murmurs, and then blinks a few times. He did not intend to say those words, he didn't even register them as they left his mouth. 

 

He didn’t think he deserved to go with Steve. He wants to go with Steve, he wants so much with Steve it drives him mad, but he doesn’t  _ deserve _ it. 

 

He doesn’t deserve someone as good as Steve. He deserves isolation and whatever else the worst get. Steve deserves celebration and praise, and he deserves it daily. There was a very clear problem already. 

 

But he sees how Steve sinks to the floor and how his breathing is slowly returning to normal, he sees how Steve has the  _ tiniest _ smile on his lips. He sees how Steve looks at him, and he can’t take it back.

 

(If Bucky thinks about it,  _ really _ thinks, he isn't surprised that he suddenly said he would go with Steve. He has always wanted to protect Steve- above anything else, keep Steve safe and make sure he's okay- and Steve is not okay right now. Steve was broken and sad, and a way for Bucky to fix that was to go with Steve. He was trying to protect Steve, like some primal instinct he was born with.) 

 

“Stop thinking so much. It’ll be fine, we’re gonna work it out,” Steve says, and he sounds like his old self. Not exactly, but as close as you can get to a Steve who weighed ninety five pounds and came home with bloody knuckles twice a week. 

 

Bucky was going home with Steve. 

 

**& &&**

 

_ It's just medicine. _

_ It's just medicine. _

 

“They would tell me it was medicine. When they put me in the chair, as they would strap me down, they would tell me it was medicine.” 

 

Bucky and Steve are sitting on the couch, they’re holding hands, both staring at the broken coffee table and bottle on the floor. The contents of the bottle are slowly seeping into the carpet, but that isn’t really important right now. Steve’s hand tightens where it holds his, but he makes no other sign that he is deeply disturbed by what Bucky is saying. He has gotten much better at hiding it. 

 

“I made the mistake of asking what they were doing, the first time they wiped me. It was so stupid of me, I knew better. The Soldier didn’t ask questions, the Soldier just sat there and waited until someone gave him a mission. I was just confused, they had never put me in the chair before.” Bucky has to clear his throat before he can continue. Steve squeezes his hand again, but Bucky knows it’s not in a scared or shocked manner this time. He wants Bucky to know that he is here for him, and that he supports Bucky. They have had many conversations about it. 

 

“When I asked, they all looked at each other. They must have been too shocked to take immediate action. They put me in chair, but they didn’t wipe me right away. I wish they had, though, God.” 

 

“They ripped off a finger nail for every word I said. Six of them, and I can’t even remember the exact wording. They let me sit there for a while, and I though it was over.”  _ Deep breaths: inhale, exhale, inhale- _ “Then they put a glass of water in front of me, it was just out of my reach. I don’t think I had anything, like, real to eat or drink for a few weeks at that point.” Bucky has to take a break at this point, and he squeezes his eyes closed. 

 

“Bucky, you don’t have to keep going if it’s too much. I- I’m so sorry, Bucky, they were terrible people. You never deserved that, or anything else they did to you.” Steve whispers, as if he suspects that if he speaks above a whisper Bucky might break. It’s a good observation. 

 

“No, I’m almost done. I can do this.” Bucky opens his eyes and moves closer to Steve, for the comfort and safety Steve provides. “I closed my eyes, because I figured that if I couldn’t see the glass it wouldn’t be so bad. Then, they uh, got these plier things, and they kept my eyes open with them. They stuck them into my face, Steve. I sat in that chair for so long, I couldn’t keep track anymore.”

 

“They finally took out the pliers, and then they put the machine around my head, to make me forget. Before they turned it on, one of the men got real close to my face and said, ‘It’s medicine, Soldier. This will help you, the medicine will help.’ I think he watched as they did it to me, but I can’t be sure.” Bucky is done, he cannot go on. He collapses into Steve’s lap, and allows himself to cry silently. 

 

It was so awful, what happened to him. But he did it, he  _ did _ all those things that the file had listed under his name. No matter what anyone tells him, no matter how much time he spends in therapy, he still sometimes believes that he deserved all of the things that happened to him. 

 

Bucky can feel Steve reach for his head, probably to help him calm down, but then must think better of it. He rubs up and down Bucky’s arm, the right one, and continues what he was saying earlier, “Bucky, honey, that should have never fucking happened to you. I’m so sorry, do you need-”

 

“I just want us to sit here, please. If that’s okay.” Bucky doesn’t usually ask for things, but he feels safe enough in this situation to ask. (Steve didn’t get mad when he told him what happened to him in the chair or what happened with the bottle, so he probably wouldn’t get mad when Bucky asked for something.)

 

“Of course, Buck. Whatever you want.” Steve continues to rub his arm, and Bucky has to admit, it is really nice. Steve is making Bucky feel very warm and cozy in this position, due to being pressed very close to Steve’s abdomen and Steve rubbing his arm, that he is starting to feel a little tired. He might bring Steve back to their bed for a nap later. 

 

“That’s.. that’s why you knocked the bottle out of my hand? Because I called it med-” Steve realizes what he is doing, and stops himself before he finishes the word. Bucky is grateful. 

 

Bucky sits up again, wipes away the remaining tears that are still on his cheeks, and tries to explain. “Yes. I freaked out, and like, I know it’s not anywhere near the same situation, but I just thought of it and I’m sorry. And it wasn’t even for me, so like, I had-.”

 

“Bucky, no, you don’t have to apologize. God, you never have to apologize for things like that. I’m not mad at all, I was just making sure. And I won’t call it that ever again, I’ll think of new words for it.” 

 

Bucky snorts, and then immediately covers his mouth. He hates when he does that, and Steve has told him before that he always hated when he laughed like that. Steve looks like he is debating whether or not he should tell Bucky that he is serious (Bucky can tell because of his eyebrows), or let Bucky know how much he loves his laugh (Bucky can tell because of his eyes).

 

Bucky gives Steve a small smile, and Steve returns it. “C’mon, let’s go take a nap. I’m really tired and you’re really warm.” 

 

Steve is the one to snort during his laugh that time, and Bucky has to bite his lip to contain his smile. 

 

“Do you want to clean this up now? Before it sets into the carpet?” Bucky motions to spilled bottle with his foot, and shivers a little. Fuck. 

 

“No, not really. I can always get one of those heavy duty cleaners now, I hear they’re really good. And I do want to nap with you, so  _ this- _ ” Steve points to the carpet with his finger, “isn’t really my main focus right now.” 

 

Bucky smirks at Steve, and grabs Steve’s hands as he stands up. As Bucky pulls them back towards their bedroom, Bucky asks, “It’s not your ‘main focus’, is it? Well, what is your main focus?”

 

“Well, he’s gorgeous, and he has the best smile I’ve ever seen. And I’ll have you know, I’ve seen a lot of people smile at me, so I like to think I know what I’m talking about.” Steve puts Bucky on their bed, and unlaced his shoes. It’s incredibly domestic and sweet, and Bucky attempts to hide his blush. 

 

“Oh, yeah? How did you get so many people to smile at ya?” When Steve looks up from Bucky’s shoes, he winks. 

 

“I’ll let you know a little secret about me, and I only tell this to people I really care about, so you should feel super special. I used to be Captain America.”

 

**& &&**

 

_ You could still be, _

_ what you want to, _

_ What you said you were, _

_ when I met you. _

  
  
  


Steve loved creating things. He loved how it felt to make something new, to be able to produce something that people would hopefully be interested in. He loved the weight of the brush in his hand, loved the way the brush slid gracefully over the canvas. Steve used to sketch as well, the scratch of charcoal or expensive pencils against the paper was addicting to him. It used to relax him, make him feel useful and less like a sick, skinny kid who was a giant burden to everyone in his life.  

 

Steve has not picked up a paint brush or a palette since Bucky was shipped out to war. Steve couldn’t even look at his old sketch book from the 30s and 40s, the sketches made him remember too much. They were of his mom, of Bucky, of their old Brooklyn apartment, of the sunrise through the window in the Brooklyn apartment. 

 

No one had to tell Bucky, he could tell by the way Steve stood in front of the easel. His back was tense, and his hand was stuck at his side. The paint brush bristles, which has been swiped through the blue paint a few minutes ago, were dried and peeling. It broke Bucky’s heart to see Steve like this, so obviously  _ sad  _ that it hurt his heart. 

 

Bucky took a few steps closer to Steve, but he did so silently. Steve didn’t really like it when people saw him when he got like this, especially Bucky (“ _ My problems ain’t nothin’ to your’s Buck, or a lot of other people’s. I got little right to complain _ ”), so he had to be cautious. Deep down, Steve was still that stubborn kid from Brooklyn who didn’t like to be pitied, and despised accepting anyone’s offers of help. 

 

Steve swiped the brush against the canvas, but because the paint was dried out, it didn’t do much to the canvas. Steve stared at the blue line, and shook his head. He looked at his palette, and then his water cup, and must have come to a silent decision. He washed and dried the bristles, and then used the red paint. 

 

A big, thick stripe of red going diagonally across the canvas. Another red stripe, creating a large ‘ _ X’ _ . He mixed a good amount of red paint with black paint, and drew a circle around the  _ X _ . Next came the red-black dots surrounding the circle, they were in varying sizes and there was no pattern to the spacing. The painting already had an ominous quality to it, but what Bucky witnessed next made him suck in a breath. If Steve hadn’t been so distracted, he probably would have heard Bucky. 

 

Steve took the paintbrush and mixed all the colors together, harshly. All the colors on the palette ,- blue, red, yellow, purple, green, pink,- they were ruined. They formed a muddy brown color, and Bucky was shocked at Steve’s actions. Steve always treated his art supplies with the utmost care, especially his paints. He always made sure the bottles weren’t sticky, and that they were always arranged according to the color wheel. 

 

Bucky was about to call out Steve’s name, ask him what was wrong, but then Steve picked up the palette and smacked it against the canvas. It made a loud  _ crack _ sound, and then the mixed brown color was dripping down the canvas. Steve was still holding the palette against the canvas, but he wasn’t looking at the art supplies anymore. He was staring out the window, and his shoulders were shaking. 

 

If you weren’t Bucky, if you hadn’t spent two lifetimes by Steve’s side, you wouldn’t have noticed. If you didn’t know Steve’s body like it was your own, like Bucky did- if you hadn’t spent many nights tracing shapes onto Steve’s bare shoulders, holding his face in your hands like he was the last good thing left on this Earth, and rubbing circles against his chest as he coughed until exhaustion took him under,- you would not have noticed how Steve’s shoulders shook and how his breath was getting shallower by the second. 

 

Bucky couldn’t take it any longer. It hurt him to see Steve like this, and he had to help him. ( _ Like some primal instinct he was born with _ . The words echoed around his head, a reminder of where Steve and he had been a year and a half ago.)

 

“Steve, honey, it’s going to be okay.” Bucky made sure to keep moving, even if it was at a snail’s pace, as he whispered those words to Steve. Slow was always better when you’re upset. 

 

Steve spun around so quickly it looked like he twisted something in his neck. His eyes were wide and wet, and he seemed to forget that he was still holding the palette against the canvas. It clattered to the ground, taking what was left of the paint with it. Steve did nothing about it.

 

Bucky just started to talk, even if it meant nothing to Steve at the moment. “I know how you feel. You feel lost, confused, and you have this slow anger burning  _ just _ under your skin that no matter what you do, you cannot reach it. It’s scary, right? You don’t want to feel that way, but it just happened one day and then it didn’t stop.” 

 

Bucky was inching closer to Steve with every word he spoke, and Steve didn’t seem to register that information until Bucky reached out and softly rubbed his arm. Steve’s eyes were still wet, and they darted to his own shoulder when he felt the pressure of Bucky’s hand. The metallic pressure. 

 

“I’ve been in therapy for about a year now, and I know a lot of things that can help you start to feel better. I learned a lot from my therapist, they are really good at their job, and I’m sure they would meet with you too.” Bucky continues to speak in a soft tone, but when Steve sucks in a deep breath at the mention of him going to therapy, Bucky realizes he might be going too fast. 

 

“Okay, okay, sorry. You don’t have to think about that right now, no one is gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to. Let’s just focus on right now, alright? I want to help you. How can I help you Stevie?”

 

Steve’s eyes dart around for a beat. First to Bucky’s shoulder, then to the door, then to the window overlooking the skyline. They are all reasonable places to look in a moment like this, and Bucky isn’t upset. He might have done the same thing. 

 

Steve takes a few steps towards Bucky, then stops. Bucky doesn’t rush him, but he does offer a small smile in case Steve needs more encouragement. Steve’s breathing is still uneven, but he has stopped crying. 

 

“Doll, come on. I can help you, just let me. It’s okay, I promise.” Bucky coaxes Steve into accepting what he’s offering, and Steve finally accepts. His chest heaves one more time, and then he’s collapsing into Bucky’s chest. Steve is crying again, and Bucky doesn’t mind. Steve should let it out just like everyone else deserves to, and sometimes that means you have to have a breakdown on your boyfriend’s shoulder. 

 

Bucky rubs up and down Steve’s back, and whispers sweet things that he thinks of, or general reassurances. “I love you, and I think you’re perfect.”, “I like the way that your hair looks when the sun shines on it.”, “I promise it’s gonna be better, I swear it.”, “I’m with you till the end of the line, you know that. I’m going to be here every step of the way.” 

 

Bucky loses track of time. They stay pressed together for minutes or what could be hours, but Bucky has no intention of moving until Steve asks him to. Bucky understands all about needing comfort and support when coming back from traumatic things, and he is in no position to rush this. 

 

Steve eventually stops crying and shaking, but then he starts profusely apologizing, his words slipping together. “I’m sorry I’m not- I don’t- I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m fine now, you don’t have to worry everything is fine.”    
  
“That’s not true Steve, c’mon. It’s, like, totally normal to feel what you’re feeling.”

 

“You sound like those commercials for the anxiety pills. You know the one-” 

 

“Don’t try and change the subject.” Bucky pushes Steve back so he is arms length away from Bucky, and then he grips his shoulders again. “I’m serious, we’re going to talk about this and then see what we’re going to do. Okay?” 

 

Steve looks away from Bucky, and then nods at his feet. Bucky used to do that a lot when Steve would say the same kind of things to him, when he was afraid of what Steve would see in his eyes if he looked at Bucky when things got bad. 

 

Bucky puts his hand on the side of Steve’s face, smiles at the way Steve nuzzles into it, and then forces eye contact between the two of them by nudging Steve’s head up. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed about. You can tell me anything, nothing you could possibly say could make me love you any less.”

 

Steve swallows hard, and then pushes out the words. “I really want to paint, but lately I can’t find anything to paint, and when I _do_ manage to find something, it turns out crappy and it just makes me even more- You were right, something is wrong- with me, or I don’t know, different, I guess.” Steve corrects himself when Bucky lightly flicks the side of his ear, their pre-discussed method of saying ‘ _Hey, that’s not right. Don’t say that about yourself_.’

 

“I just want- I just want to be me again. Smashing paint palettes isn’t me, keeping myself isolated and withdrawing from our friends isn’t me, having-” Steve abruptly stops, but forces himself to continue. Bucky doesn’t interrupt, but all he wants to do is tell Steve how proud of him he is. 

 

“I’ve, um, been having nightmares again. Bad ones, I usually wake up really sweaty and out of breath. I thought the nightmares would stop, Bucky, I thought this would all stop, but it hasn’t. I’m so tired of living like this, I really don’t want to do it again.”

 

Steve’s lip trembles, and Bucky pulls him close again. He doesn’t put Steve’s face in his shoulder this time, he wants Steve to see every single one of his expressions and hear every word he has to say. “Steve, I’m so sorry. You’re so brave, I want you to know that. You are so brave and strong, and I’m so proud of you.” 

 

“Thank you for telling me all of that, really. I just- you know you could have told me all of this the second it started to happen to you, right? I would have done whatever it took to make it even one percent better for you.” Bucky thinks for a moment. “Name it, whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want, even if it’s like, a friendship bracelet.” 

 

Steve gives a watery laugh, and Bucky smiles too. 

 

“A back massage would be nice?” Steve phrases it like a question, like he’s unsure if Bucky was serious. 

 

Bucky pushes him over the back of the couch, and Steve’s laugh is the sweetest sound Bucky has heard all week. He wants to hear more of it, so every once in awhile Bucky will poke Steve in the sides to hear his laugh again. It’s worth every kick he receives from Steve. 

 

“I think I have PTSD, Buck.” Steve whispers, and it’s even more muffled because his face is half pressed into the couch cushion. “I’m just stressed all the time, and I’m trying to hide it, but I don’t think I can anymore.” Bucky briefly pauses the back massage, and then quickly resumes it. 

 

Of course Bucky had noticed. Once he was in a good enough mental space to process other people's emotions and make reasonable assumptions, it wasn't hard to see that something was different. The signs were all there, it was just a matter of time until someone did something about it. 

 

Steve never smiled like he used to, when his eyes would almost disappear with the force of his smile and he would have crinkles by his eyes. Even when he did smile, it was with his mouth closed. He always looks tired, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and he doesn’t know how to lighten his burden. 

 

Bucky has heard stories of Steve randomly lashing out at Natasha or Sam. Clint told him about how Steve got angry on a mission, and then started to yell at Natasha. She didn’t let it get to her, she just thought Steve was stressed out. Sam told Bucky of the time when Steve was at the VA and things must have gotten a little  _ too _ close to home, because the next thing Sam knew Steve was out of the building and slamming the front door behind him. 

 

Those things didn’t strike either of them as odd because they didn’t know Steve before the war. They didn’t know Steve when all he wanted to do was fight for what he thought was  _ right _ , not fight because that was the only thing he had left. 

 

It breaks Bucky’s heart, and he wishes that he had done something sooner. He wishes that he had helped Steve sooner, had taken Steve to some remote location and had a long talk with him. But this isn’t about him, this is about Steve and his recovery process. 

 

“I thought so, too. I didn’t want to pressure you or anything, or tell you and then have you deny it even more. I’m really proud of you, and we’re going to figure something out.” Bucky whispers. 

 

Bucky kisses all the way down Steve’s spine, an easy task because of where he’s sitting, which is on the back of Steve’s thighs. (They’re very soft, it’s one of Bucky’s favorite places to sit.)

 

“I love you, Bucky. Thank you, you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me.” 

 

**& &&**

  
  


_ You've got a warm heart, _

_ you've got a beautiful brain. _

_ But it's disintegrating, _

_ from all the medicine. _

_ from all the medicine. _

_ from all the medicine. _

_ Medicine. _

  
  


Steve flops down on the couch, which is where Bucky is sitting, and rests his head in Bucky’s lap. Bucky immediately starts to rub and scratch Steve’s head because he knows Steve likes that. 

 

“What’s up, Stevie?” Bucky doesn’t know if Steve has an actual problem, or if he just wants a little attention. Bucky is willing to handle both. 

 

“The pills the doctor gave me make me so tired, and like,  _ blah _ .” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s thigh, and then hums when Bucky applies a little more pressure to his scalp.

 

Bucky snorts at Steve’s description of the side effects of the pills. He remembers all too well what the prescription pills made him feel, especially the inconvenient side effects. 

 

“Bucky, I’m  _ serious _ . How long am I gonna feel like this? I’m over it already, I just want to be better.” 

 

Bucky gives Steve a small smile, and considers his options. He could take the serious route with Steve, make sure that he knows that the pills will take at  _ least _ three months to level out. Or, he could be sarcastic with Steve and worry about Steve getting defensive. It's worth it. 

 

“Oh, Steve. So young, so much to learn. It’s okay though, you have a very experienced teacher in the ways of medication.” Bucky is very proud of himself, he doesn’t flinch at the word ‘medicine’ anymore. 

 

Steve glares at him, so Bucky jumps to the point. “It’ll take at least three months for the medication to level out, and then it'll get easier. The side effects will still be there, but it won't be as bad as it is now.”

 

Steve doesn't like that news, apparently, because he sits up quickly and glares at the floor. Bucky is beginning to suspect this isn't only about the medicine.

 

“You know you can talk to me Steve, about anything.” 

 

“I know. I just- I don't want to bother you. Bucky, you've already got so much on your plate, and-.” 

 

“C’mon Steve. You know it's not a bother when you tell me what's bouncin’ around in that pretty head of yours.” Bucky likes it when Steve blushes, so he throws around as many compliments as he can. 

 

“I don’t like this feeling, I- I hate feeling like this. I feel like garbage, Buck. The meds make me so nauseous one second, and then I’m halfway asleep the next!” 

 

Steve lowers his voice, like he just now realized he was on his way to shouting. “I feel helpless, like I can't do anything anymore. It's like I’m little again, and I’m stuck in our old apartment feeling terrible while you're off working for the both of us”

 

“Steve, I had no idea, I’m so sorry. Do you want to stop taking the meds? They aren't for everyone, but I’m sure your therapist talked to you about that.”

 

“I don't even know at this point. Like, I know that the meds eventually help me, but I don't want to feel like this for three months- maybe more.”

 

“Okay, well, you don't have to decide right now. Instead, we can watch this really cool video I found.”

 

“Oh yeah? What's it about?”

 

“You'll see, just watch Stevie.” 

 

It’s obviously an edited video, because it starts with a completely black screen and upbeat music. Then on the black screen, words in large, white print appear. 

 

_ Captain America’s Fitness Challenge: 2012 _

 

Steve makes a noise that is somewhere between choking and laughing, and shoves Bucky down the couch. “How did you fucking find this?” 

 

“I have a lot of free time. Now shh, my favorite part is coming up.” 

 

**& && **

 

_ You could still be, _

_ what you want to be, _

_ What you said you were, _

_ when you met me. _

  
  


“Now that you're not Captain America and saving the world every week, you can do things that you actually enjoy. What is it that you enjoy?” 

 

“I- I don't know.” 

 

Steve wants to bolt, but he knows that that isn't a good idea. He's already left therapy early two times before, and he just feels embarrassed afterword. 

 

“Well, what did you do before you volunteered for the army?” 

 

“I did art. Sketches, mostly, because that was all we could afford.” Steve doesn't add ‘ _ barely’ _ , he doesn't want to get into their money situation again. He isn't ashamed, he just feels awkward talking about it with his therapist because she doesn't understand what it's like to live paycheck to paycheck. 

 

“Have you tried getting back into the art world? There are many new techniques and models now.” His therapist, Alexandria, is very good at her job. Her office has a lot of natural light, and there are a lot of small plants around the couch. Her voice is also  _ just _ soft enough that whenever she says something that makes Steve’s heart race, he can see that it isn't so bad a few seconds later. 

 

“I've tried to do that. It just, it doesn't feel the same anymore. Everything I try to do just reminds me of what I lost, or what I went through before.”

 

“Remembering doesn't have to be such a bad thing. There must have been good times that you'd like to recreate, whether through art or another form.”

 

“I guess, yeah.” 

 

_ // _

 

_ It’s so hot outside, Steve has no idea why they even left the apartment. He’s in his lightest and loosest clothes, but he still feels the sweat stains forming under his arms and behind his knees.  _

 

_ “Buck, it’s so hot out here. What’s the point of sweating out here when we coulda been doing nothin’ in our apartment and still sweat this much?”  _

 

_ “Stop complainin’ Stevie, there is a reason for everything I do. And besides, it’s exciting to add a little adventure to our lives, don’t ya think?” Bucky turns his head as he finishes his sentence, and he winks at Steve while smirking. It makes Steve stumble a little, and Bucky turns around laughing.  _

 

_ “Yeah, yeah. Just walk faster, Barnes.”  _

 

_ Steve is trying to take in his new surroundings and make the correct turns to follow Bucky, but it is still a surprise when Bucky stops walking, which causes Steve to run right into Bucky’s back. _

 

_ “Oof! Bucky, what the-!”  _

 

_ “Sorry. I got distracted and forgot to take a turn a few blocks ago.” Bucky finally turns around again, and his cheeks are tinted pink, from the heat or the slight embarrassment from getting them lost. “There’s a park right there though, we could spend the afternoon there.” _

 

_ “Okay, Bucky. That sounds fine.”  _

 

_ They both walk across the street, and Steve appreciates the quietness of the new neighborhood they stumbled upon. It’s a much different environment than the apartment he and Bucky share is in, with it’s loud streets and louder neighbors.  _

 

_ They choose to sit under a large tree that offers a lot of shade, and it’s a nice relief from the suffocating heat of summers in New York. There is vibrant, green grass that looks like it could go on for miles, and a small gathering of flowers circling what looks like a small memorial a few yards away. Steve will have to stop by the memorial and hope that he isn’t allergic to any of the flowers that are over there.  _

 

_ “Bucky, why are we here? Not that I don’t think it’s a pretty place but…” _

 

_ “I wanted to ask you something, Steve. It's pretty big, but I think you'll enjoy it.” _

 

_ // _

 

“Steve? Are you alright?” Alexandria asks, noticing how Steve spaced out. 

 

“Before the war, I just wanted to do what was right. I wanted to fight because it was the right thing to do, it was right to save the people who needed saving. I  _ wanted  _ to. When I woke up, I fought because that’s what they all expected of me. They all expected Captain America to jump right back into the fight, but I never really wanted to. I didn't see a purpose, but it was all I had left.” 

 

His hands are folded in his lap, and he's staring resolutely out the window. Steve Rogers is not Captain America, he hasn't been that guy for a long time. 

 

“Then Bucky came back. We found him, and he agreed to come back with me. It was the happiest I’d been since I got out of the ice, probably. He gave me a reason, a  _ purpose _ \- Bucky gave me something other than the fighting, the war. He gave me a reason to live, he gave me love, stability, and unwavering support. He’s always given those things to me, but this time it was  _ more _ . We’ve both changed so much, and he still wanted to stick by my side.”

 

Steve takes in a shaky breath, and keeps staring out the window. He has half of an idea in his head, and it’s going to take a considerable amount of focus to complete it.

 

“Of course he does. Bucky loves you, and he wouldn’t stop loving you just because you’ve experienced significant trauma. And Steve, you can still promote what you think is right without participating in hand to hand combat. There are plenty of other ways for Steve Rogers to stand up for himself." 

  
  


Alexandria softly smiles at him, and waits for him to continue talking or bolt. 

 

He does both. 

 

“I have to go do something. It’s not dangerous, it’s just something I should have done a while ago.” Steve stands up and presses the number two on his phone screen, and tells his therapist thank you and goodbye. 

 

He doesn’t think she’ll pick up, but on the last ring he hears the phone pick up. “Rogers. What took you so long?” 

 

Steve can hear the smirk in her voice, and even though he has a million questions to ask her, he will ask them later. “Had to go through a lot of therapy. It was worth it though.” He hears her laugh on the other end of the line, and he smiles. “Meet me at the bakery.”

 

_ // _

 

“So, how are you and Barnes?” Natasha asks him, and she smiles behind her coffee cup. Steve has missed her a lot. 

 

“We’re really good, he’s happy and I’m happy. I’m gonna propose tomorrow.” 

 

Natasha spits some of her coffee at Steve in surprise, and Steve isn’t lying when he says it’s the proudest moment of his entire life. (Like, how many people can say that they got that much of a reaction out of Natasha Romanoff?) 

 

“You called me out here to tell me that? Or do you need something more?”  _ I’m so happy for you, thank you for telling me this. I will help in any way I can. _

 

“I need you to record it for me. You’re the only one I know who can go undercover so well.”  _ You are able to go undercover extremely well, but I also don’t trust anyone else with this. I would never let anyone else have a copy of this moment, you’re the only one I trust with it. I’m positive Bucky would agree with me.  _

 

“Just tell me when and where.”  _ I know.  _

 

Natasha sticks out her hand across the small table, and Steve gives her his hand. They shake on it, and Steve can’t contain his smile anymore. He sees Natasha smile (a big smile, with teeth and pushed up cheeks) for half of a second, and then she resumes her usual expression. Steve almost cries. 

 

**& &&**

 

_ You could still be, _

_ what you want to. _

_ What you said you were, _

_ when I met you. _

_ when you met me. _

_ when I met you. _

 

_ // _

 

_ “I wanted to ask you something, Steve. It's pretty big, but I think you'll enjoy it.” Bucky whispers.  _

 

_ “Anything, Buck. You know that.”  _ __  
  


_ Bucky exhales heavily, and looks Steve in the eye. “I know that things are hard, for you and me, partially because of what we got goin’ on. And I love what we have, you know that, it’s the best thing in my life right now.” Bucky inhales sharply, and blinks heavily. Steve feels a pit of dread in his stomach. “And I know that things aren’t going to magically get any better, but if they do, if suddenly everything changes, if we can- if we were able to-” _

 

_ “Bucky, what’s going on? What do you mean?” Steve doesn’t want to lose Bucky, but he has a suspicion that this is where this is heading. _

 

_ “Steve, if things are better one day, will you-” _

 

_ // _

 

Steve dropped to his knee, and Bucky’s hands shot to his face. “Bucky, things are better now. So much better now, for me, for you, for a lot of people. We promised each other, eighty years ago in this exact spot, that if things were better, we would do this. We have so much waiting for us, we can do so much good with what we have, but right now I just want some good for  _ us _ , and us alone. We can have that happy ending that we always dreamed of, we can finally do this.”

 

“When you left with me, you gave me something I hadn’t had in a long time. Something to fight for, something that I believed in. I believe in us, I believe in what we can do as a team, as  _ husbands _ .” Steve takes a deep breath, and asks. 

 

“Bucky, will you-” 

 

_ // _

 

_ “Steve, if things are better one day, will you spend forever with me?” Bucky takes a deep breath, and stares at Steve. He looks terrified, and Steve wants to push his face into the grass.  _

 

_ Steve smiles so big his cheeks hurt, and wipes the single tear that falls down his face. “Of course I will, God. I love you so much.”  _

 

_ They can’t kiss in the middle of this park, in the middle of the day, but they do hold hands as discreetly as they can while they both overflow with joy. They’re going to be just fine, Steve feels it in his heart, and in his gut.  _

 

_ // _

 

“Bucky, will you spend forever with me?” Steve bites his lower lip, and waits for Bucky’s answer. He doesn’t expect Bucky to repeat what Steve said all those years ago, but Bucky is constantly surprising him. 

 

“Of course I will, God. I love you so much.” Bucky laughs lightly and smiles down at Steve, and Steve stands up after sliding the ring onto Bucky’s finger so he can kiss Bucky properly. It’s sweet and short, only because Bucky pulls him into a tight hug.  

 

Steve feels Bucky’s hand grip his hair, and a small wet spot on his shoulder. Steve doesn’t mention it because Bucky is about to feel the same thing on his shoulder. 

 

“I’m so happy, you make me so happy. Thank you so much.” Steve whispers into Bucky’s neck, and he feels Bucky nod against his neck. 

 

“Is Nat here?” Bucky asks, but there is no malice in his voice. Steve laughs and nods his head, and Bucky smiles at him. 

 

“Let me know when she sends the video. I want a copy of it.” Bucky requests, and then he pulls Steve in for another hug. This is the best moment of Steve’s life, and he is confident that nothing could ever top it. 

 

Steve feels a vibration in his back pocket, and he doesn’t even bother looking up from Bucky’s shoulder. He knows he wouldn’t be able to see her, so he just gives a quick thumbs up behind Bucky’s back and removes himself from the hug. (He wouldn’t be able to find her, but he knows that she can see him. He hopes the thumbs up is enough to tide her over for now.)

 

Steve quickly grabs Bucky’s hand, and pulls him back to their apartment. They can’t stop giggling and smiling like high schoolers with a crush, but Steve doesn’t mind. He’s a man in love, nothing can stop him now. He won’t let it this time. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!!! if you leave a comment/kudos i'll love you forever <3


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